


Only the Sun Has Come This Close, Only the Sun

by emotionalism



Category: SKAM (France)
Genre: F/F, Fluff, mayla, no mayla angst ❌❌ society has progressed past the need for mayla angst, soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-05
Updated: 2020-07-05
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:34:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25088506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emotionalism/pseuds/emotionalism
Summary: Lola and Maya spend time in the park between their apartments.
Relationships: Lola Lecomte/Maya Etienne, Lola/Maya, Maya Etienne/Lola Lecomte
Comments: 8
Kudos: 112





	Only the Sun Has Come This Close, Only the Sun

**Author's Note:**

> The lack of Maya/Lola fics made me sad, so I am here to fill the deficit even if this is bad.

The sun is sinking beneath the Paris skyline, and Lola can see the soft oranges and pinks paint the sky through the canopy of trees.

She looks down at the girl who is smiling blissfully in her arms. Maya is sitting between her legs, laying her head on Lola’s chest. Lola is playing with her hair, twirling the faded purple locks between her fingers and brushing Maya’s hair out of her face.

“You always do that,” Maya says, opening her eyes slightly. 

“Tuck my hair behind my ear,” Maya explains, when Lola frowns. Lola blushes, moving her hand away. Before she can, Maya grabs it and kisses her knuckles.

“I just want to see your eyes,” Lola says. 

They are lying on a blanket in one of the small parks in between Lola’s apartment and Maya’s. 

Maya is humming softly, dragging her finger up and down Lola’s arm and looking up at the sky. 

“What are you thinking about?” Lola asks, kissing the top of Maya’s head. Lola’s feelings spill out from her, but Maya is always so quiet that she has to ask when she wants to know.

“Oh, you know... the stars, the moon,” she replies softly. She turns her head, looking into Lola’s eyes. “Do you read poetry?” 

Lola shakes her head. No, she doesn’t read poetry. She has always preferred photos. You cannot lie with a picture, you cannot hurt people with a picture, but you can with words. The words can get confused and jumbled, and you can say something that stings and comes out of your mouth like venom, like the burning alcohol you swallowed not minutes before. 

“I don’t,” Lola says softly, trying to silence her own thoughts and bring herself back to where she is — in the park, with Maya. She takes a breath, and wraps her arms around Maya, pulling Maya closer to her body and breathing her in.

“There’s just this one line in this poem,” Maya says after a beat. “It’s by Frank O’Hara... ‘I am always thinking of the moon rising, I am always thinking of you.’ And... I don’t know. I guess it’s stupid, but that’s just how I feel right now. Like I’m thinking of you, like I’m always thinking of you.”

Lola let’s Maya’s words fill her, let’s them make Lola feel light and happy and young and like everything is okay because she’s with Maya and Maya is always thinking of her. 

Maya is good with words in a way that Lola never is. Maybe it’s because most of the time Maya is quiet — watching, listening, and waiting. Lola thinks that she’s never met anyone as patient or as kind as Maya. 

“What?” Maya asks softly.

“Kiss me,” Lola replies. And Maya does.

She gets up from lying on Lola’s chest, and Lola whines softly at the sudden loss of heat. She’s silenced when Maya turns to her, looking at Lola with her pretty brown eyes. Maya slowly leans in and tilts Lola’s chin so she is looking up at her. Then she kisses Lola, and Lola’s heart speeds up just like the first time. Maya’s mouth moves slowly against hers and Lola feels warm and happy. 

Lola’s hand finds itself tangled in Maya’s hair, pulling Maya closer to her. Maya breaks the kiss, laughing softly.

“The park closes at dusk,” she says, while Lola kisses her in between words. “We have to go soon.”

“Mmhmm,” Lola says, continuing to kiss her. Lola reaches for Maya’s hand and threads their fingers together. After a few more minutes, she pulls away from Maya. 

“Okay, we should go,” Lola says, resting their foreheads together. She nuzzles her nose against Maya’s, and Maya smiles.

They sit like that for another minute, tangled in each other and waiting for their heartbeats to slow down. 

“Time to go home,” Maya says, standing up and beginning to pack up their stuff.

Lola wants to say that she already is home, but she doesn’t know how to say it in a way that’s not cheesy and cliché and maybe too much to say to someone that you have only known for a few months, so she says nothing and only smiles to herself.


End file.
